


Blood Honey

by nightabsentia



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Desperation, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightabsentia/pseuds/nightabsentia
Summary: Is this what it feels like, he wonders, to be the lamb cornered by the wolf? He brought himself here to his own slaughter, against all of his survival instincts. Though that’s what he came for. To be torn apart in the way that only someone of Schneider’s kind could do.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Christoph Schneider | Doom
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	Blood Honey

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a vampire metallica fic i read by [inkk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk) that struck me dead so i had to write my own uwu 
> 
> this took a million years and a whole lot of guts for my first true foray into smut. a massive thank you to [brig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle) who whipped this piece into shape in a way that nobody else could have. i kind of owe brig my life at this point ngl

Clenching his hands around the steering wheel, Paul leans back against the headrest and breathes, counting seconds before each inhale and exhale. On the dashboard, the green digital numbers tell him the time, 20:54, cutting it a bit close to his appointment time, but he’s here nonetheless. He could’ve just not come at all, called Schneider and told him that he was backing out, but he didn’t. He knows he can do this, he wants this, otherwise he wouldn’t have looked for a partner in the first place. Paul’s just nervous.

The tension and anxiety were manageable earlier in the day, but now that he’s here, in front of this man’s house, it reaches its crescendo. With the way his heart is beating, like a frightened mouse, he’s afraid it’s going to beat so hard it’ll crawl up his throat and fall out of his mouth. Pressing a flat palm over his sternum, he feels its steady vibration under his touch, and continues to focus on his breathing so he can pull himself together before he goes to knock on the door.

Paul knows he tends to overreact. In all likelihood, he’ll go in, his client will be perfectly affable and accommodating, they’ll take care of business, enjoy each other’s company, and everything will be okay. The anticipation is what’s killing him. Not knowing. Richard told him his experiences, what he should expect, but there’s a difference between being told what to do and actually doing it. Auditory versus kinesthetic learning.

Two minutes before he’s supposed to be there. On with it, now, he thinks. He gets out of the car, and begins to walk up the long driveway.

When he was told this man was in Charlottenburg, he knew he had to be wealthy, but he’s quietly in awe, seeing the wide expanse of this house. It’s a beautiful property, with trees leering over like they’re trying to keep a secret, though maybe they are, Paul thinks. The front is illuminated by the fixture next to the front door as well as the vivid garden lamps. Ivy crawls up its face and sides, curling around the many windows in a loving caress. Some windows of which emit a soft glow, the luminance of light from inside.

Reaching the front door, he knocks thrice against the solid wood of the door – without pause, his client opens it, as though he’d been waiting right there the whole time. Paul knows what he’s capable of. He knows that his kind can sense heartbeats from meters away. Maybe he’d felt him coming up his driveway. He’s not sure if it should perturb him. Though it does admittedly rattle him. Paul feels so poignantly right then how out of his element he really is.

The man he’s confronted with is tall, exceedingly pale, but nonetheless strikingly handsome. “Hi,” the man says, and extends a hand out for Paul to shake. “I’m Schneider. Thank you for taking the time out.” As he speaks, he smiles as courtesy, and Paul looks into his mouth, and he swears he can see the tell-tale sharpened teeth, though he can’t be sure. Schneider is likely conscious of it, as he tries to stifle himself and use only his lips to express himself.

“My pleasure. I’m Paul.” The other man’s hand is cool to the touch. It’s an odd sensation. Though he supposes he’ll be encountering plenty more oddities tonight.

“Please, come in,” Schneider says, and steps aside, allowing Paul to enter.

After entering the front room, Schneider closes and locks the door behind them both. It becomes so real for Paul in that moment, standing in this man’s house, at his mercy for the night. Can Schneider feel him now, the blood that rushes through him with its palpable urgency? If he can, he doesn’t mention it or allude to it. Paul hopes he keeps it that way; it’s like being naked without any way to cover himself, and it borders a little bit on embarrassing.

“Can I invite you to the kitchen for some water, or tea?” his host questions him, beginning towards the kitchen, to where Paul follows. A drink would be good. Calm him down a little. And they can have an opportunity to warm up to each other before they go straightaway to the promised affair.

“Water would be great,” Paul tells him. Reaching into a cabinet, his host pulls down a glass, and fills it with tap from the sink. As he takes the time to do so, Paul clenches his hands around the backrest of the kitchen chair, observing the space around him. The house is open, and free, filled with furniture that has the appearance of being particularly old with others that seem to be brand new. The high vaulted walls are painted a deep rich brown, which can hardly be seen through the tightknit arrangement of wall art on every available surface. Paintings of angels, of devils, of the Greek gods, of faces contorted in pain and rapture as they depict death, suffering, worship. It strikes him as morbid. Between the art, Paul spots old wooden clocks, iron cast crosses, a glass shadowbox of pinned moths, as well as what appears to be a dress, in the deepest shade of ocean winedark, framed in its whole length as though it were a painting itself.

He would ask about some of what he sees, but he becomes more preoccupied with Schneider, who places the glass in his hands, which he accepts gratefully. After observing the house so closely, it’s the first time he gets a truly good look at his host, and it’s striking, just how handsome he is. What he notices first is the short curls, the bright vermillion eyes, and a sharper set of cheekbones with the jawline to match. Then he finds the finer detail, the subtle brush strokes; his eyes betray a forlorn quality in the way they are sunken, circles like bruises heavy underneath, his lips dry and cracked. He looks tired, almost sick.

“Did you have any trouble getting here?” Schneider inquires, for the sake of having something to talk about. To start warming up to each other. Paul appreciates it. Simple pleasantries.

“Wasn’t that bad. Traffic was a bit of a killer, but it got better the further out of the city I went,” he replies. He takes a sip of water. Despite that, his throat feels dry. Paul feels as though everything that stitches him together is about to unravel. His body betraying itself. Is this what it feels like, he wonders, to be the lamb cornered by the wolf? He brought himself here to his own slaughter, against all of his survival instincts. Though that’s what he came for. To be torn apart in the way that only someone of Schneider’s kind could do. He wanted it enough to agree to meet him, to come, though there’s still that apprehension and uncertainty that is built within him.

“Were you planning on staying the night?” Schneider asks, jutting his hip against the granite island and crossing his arms with an expectant look.

“Would that be okay with you?” Paul inquires. He had been planning on it, leaving clothes in his car, figuring that he’d be in no shape to drive after Schneider was through with him.

With a stifled smile, and a nod of his head, his host is accommodating. “Absolutely. I have a guest room available if that’s what you’d be most comfortable with.”

There’s a moment of contemplation, and then Schneider realizes that he’s being horribly rude by not inviting his guest to sit, to which he makes a gesture for him to help himself if he so pleases. Paul pulls out the chair he stands by to make himself comfortable. When he does, the host sits across from him, setting himself down heavily.

“So, before we get too far along, I just wanted to talk with you. Would that be alright?” Schneider questions, and Paul has no objections.

“Of course.”

Schneider swallows hard, clears his throat. Takes a moment to think to himself about what he wants to say and how to say it. Such delicate matters require certain amounts of etiquette. Whatever that etiquette may be. Paul doesn’t know the rules.

He starts. “So I understand this is your first time.” Yes, it is. It’s something that he shouldn’t embarrass him as it does, his inexperience, but it makes him blush regardless. Paul begins to pick at a loose thread on the cuff of his long sleeve shirt. He doesn’t quite meet the other man’s eyes as he speaks, like Schneider will be able to see all of the vulnerability, the fear, the uncertainty if he does. As if he can’t sense it already in his timid pulse.

“What made you want to do something like this?” his host asks, and well, that’s getting right to the point. But Schneider already knows, as they discussed briefly over the phone, that it’s his attempt at experimenting with himself and his desires. Paul’s never been particularly exploratory about his, well, sexual interests, and this is definitely something that pushes his limits further than they ever have been before. Though after some time of hearing stories from Richard about his experiences, and then thinking about what it would be like for himself (okay, he may have looked up some stuff about it online and read some forums), it’s something that he decided he’d be interested in trying.

Pausing for a moment, he hesitates. He finds himself a bit ashamed; Schneider already knows the answer. He just wants to hear him say it. Apprehensively, Paul meets his gaze.

“A friend kind of introduced me to the concept and uh, well. I thought it was, you know,” Paul begins shyly, cheeks flushing red with his humiliation. “I liked it enough that I decided to reach out, and that’s when Richard mentioned you and you and I got to talking.”

“No shame in that,” Schneider shrugs dismissively, and then presses in a firm tone, “How long have you been interested in engaging in this sort of thing?”

He leans back in his chair, placing his hands in his lap. His demeanor is unrestful, the way he bounces his leg, picks at his fingernails. Though his face offers nothing, gaze hard and unwavering. Paul takes notice of that, how much he stares. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it, what to really think of this other man.

“Uh, a couple of months. Yeah.”

Moving right along, Schneider continues. “What are you wanting to happen for this particular session?”

Paul thought about it beforehand. Whether to wade into it or submerge himself completely. The issue of ‘if not now, then when,’ made him decide that there would be no time like the present. After all the build up and anticipation, he just wants to know what it feels like, the object of his lustful speculations.

“I think I’d like to fuck tonight. Just basic. I just want to see how this first session goes,” he explains, in a rush of confidence in the face of the uncertainty and well, he wants this, and telling him will get him what he wants.

With a tight-lipped smile with nothing behind the eyes as he does so, Schneider nods. “Okay, I can do that, easily.” He clears his throat a little, and in a subtle gesture, presses the tips of his fingers to the base of his neck, as if to soothe an unseen ache. “I’ll be certain to ascertain what you’d like to do for a session, as well as during the session since feeding changes your state of mind.”

Paul nods. It brings him comfort, hearing how concerned he is for his wellbeing. Not to mention it makes a good impression, especially for the start of what would at the very least be a working relationship. Richard introduced him to Schneider for his first time because he said he was a model client, careful in handling his guests, and Paul sees it now. The anxiety about who he’ll be doing this with lessens, even if he does still feel the nervousness from the rest of the unknowns. Paul makes a sound of agreement before Schneider continues.

“Throughout this, I want you to be honest with me. If you need to leave at any time, I want you to know I won’t hold it against you. Okay? I want you to feel safe,” Schneider tells him in a note of finality. He clears his throat again, parts his lips to run his tongue over his dry lips. “Now, I hate to cut this short. I hope you don’t mind, Paul, and I don’t want to be rude, but I’m starving, and my throat hurts like nothing else. Would you care to join me and continue in the bedroom?”

“Sure,” Paul says, that tension settling hard in his stomach. Tipping his head back, he downs the rest of the water. Things will be alright, he’s just jittery. They simply need to get this first time out of the way. He allows Schneider to lead him out of the kitchen, up the stairs towards the bedroom.

The floor lamp is dim, though he can see the room clearly. It is evident that Schneider put some thought into tonight, with the black sheets and covers laid over the bed. Smart. Even if he’s wondering how much blood has been soaked into that fabric before. What it would show if it were white instead. Paul approaches the right side of the bed, toeing his shoes off next to the nightstand, and stripping himself of his socks. Schneider sits down on the edge as Paul makes himself comfortable. Waits for him to join and get settled before they move any further.

“What does it feel like?” he thinks out loud then as he places himself next to his host. He wonders if it will hurt. Or, well, he knows it’ll hurt. How badly is the question. Which is what he volunteered for. He hopes it’ll at the very least hurt in a way that he’ll enjoy. That’s what he bet on when he signed up. Whether the investment has the payoff he’s been told about.

Schneider furrows his brow, though he doesn’t have to think for long. “It’s like pain that has a relief. Like burning your hand and then putting it under cold water. Or, like, having an intense itch that gets scratched. It’s hard to describe until you experience it.”

Nodding solemnly, he accepts this. The pain before the pleasure. Richard had told him that it’s a high that can’t touch any of the drugs he’s ever tried before. He’d be one to know, out of all the times he’s experimented with coke, with pills, with liquors. ‘It’s the most sexual non-sexual experience you’ll ever have,’ he remembers him saying, and Paul had laughed then. Though Richard added that when sex between clients and guests occurs, it qualifies as the most sexual of sexual experiences in that context, as well. Which he’d also chalk up to his own personal knowledge.

Regardless of the rewards promised, it’s still a bit intimidating. Paul’s never been this close to one of Schneider’s kind, never mind alone. Looking at the thin line of his host’s lips, he thinks about those teeth, that he swears he saw earlier, but didn’t get to really observe.

Absentmindedly, Paul reaches a hand up, and presses his fingertips against the other man’s lips, a silent plea, asking for him to open. Catching the hint, Schneider parts his lips. The fangs are settled where the human canine teeth would be, prominent on the top and bottom rows, porcelain white and sharpened to perfect points. Woah. While they’re menacing, inside the mouth of a monster he’s been told to fear, Paul can’t help but think they’re beautiful.

He lifts the pad of his index finger, and presses it lightly against the tip of the bottom right canine. Already, he can feel how keenly edged they are, just in that lightest of touches. It’s what Paul has fantasized about in the abstract, but has here now, in front of him, and it’s as exciting as he’s imagined. Paul wants more; putting pressure down on the tooth, he punctures his finger easily, and then pulls, creating a long slice in his flesh. It stings, but it’s not unpleasant. Already he finds just that simple action to be electrifying. Blood flows easily from the wound, and he can see it drip and stain the porcelain white of his host’s fang. Taking his finger away, he presents it to Schneider for him to see, as a lone rivulet begins to trail towards his palm.

Whichever reaches the vampire first, the taste in his mouth or the smell in the air, causes realization to bloom in his eyes before he even comprehends what Paul is showing him. Then his eyes snap towards it, and he moves like a man possessed. Maybe he is.

Delicately, Schneider reaches out to cradle his guest’s hand, and leans down to close his lips around the wound. Maintaining a hard gaze with the other man, Schneider repeatedly runs his tongue along the little gash, attempting to sample as much as the cut can give him. That’s… Jesus, it’s almost too much. All of the speculation about how he’d feel doing this, and it’s already exceeding expectations. It’s about the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him—he wants whatever he’s allowed to take, or give. The fear is gone, gone, replaced with a type of lust and desire Paul has never felt before.

Silently, Schneider withdraws, maintaining a gentle hold on Paul’s hand without breaking that firm eye contact. With a firm look of stoicism joined by determination, Schneider whispers “Okay?”

God, more than okay, Paul thinks. He nods, eyes wide, and there’s nothing he’d rather be doing, nowhere else he’d rather be. “Do what you want to me,” he tells him, because he wants him to. “Lead me.”

“I want to establish that you can use safe words if anything gets overwhelming. You’re familiar with red, yellow, green?” Schneider presses him further, and Paul nods.

Steeling himself a moment, Schneider considers what he wants. He releases his hand, swallows hard, and releases a shuddery exhale like he’s been holding his breath. Studies him, traces his face with his ravenous eyes, of which Paul notices are so brilliantly and strikingly colored with a crimson luster.

Slowly, Schneider leans into his neck and takes in a deep breath, as though smelling a rich perfume. Goosebumps rise across Paul’s flesh in response. Schneider pulls back with a knitted brow, swallows hard again. Already well past seduced, Paul will let him do anything within reason. After all, this is supposed to be on his terms; his house, his bed, his hunger.

“I’m going to kiss you,” the vampire informs him in a succinct murmur, sending a thrill up Paul’s back. He certainly doesn’t need Paul’s consent to do that, so Paul closes his eyes and meets him where he is halfway, allowing their lips to press together. Schneider pushes him back flat against the bed, and then crawls between his legs, to kneel over him. Paul shivers; the temperature of the other man’s skin is unnaturally low, not unpleasantly so, but it still comes as a bit of a shock. Though Paul is filled with an immediate warmth at the arousal that blooms within him, low in his belly. He feels himself getting stiff in his jeans. The grind of the other man’s groin against his own hardly helps matters. Slowly, Paul threads his fingers in the hair at the base of Schneider’s neck. In return, Schneider strokes gently over Paul’s cheeks. An action that comes across as shockingly intimate for strangers, but Paul enjoys nonetheless.

What starts as a slow pursing of their lips, this back and forth gradually deepens with more desire, though perhaps of different nature between them. Then that dangerous mouth wanders, as Schneider begins laying kisses along the crook of the neck, where the shoulder converges—and it feels heavenly. Though in the back of his mind, he wonders how much Schneider is restraining himself, what he’d do right now if he wasn’t; he can only imagine, with how irritable he’s seemed since Paul walked in the door. It seems he’s been maintaining a guise of politeness thus far, as if to avoid overstepping boundaries. Playing nice to get what he wants. Paul doesn’t feel himself devalued or insulted in any way by that idea—in fact, he finds it exceedingly sexy in the way Schneider wants him: hungering for him. Paul would turn it around on him, make Schneider beg for it, even if he does enjoy being at his mercy and will; but he won’t make him wait, and he doesn’t want to wait either.

Finding the bottom of Paul’s shirt, Schneider slips his hands underneath and runs both up his sides, pressing firmly into the flesh, counting over every rib. Fingers gently toying with his raised nipples, evoking gasps and light laughter, drawn out of him by his surprise how utterly sensitive he is. It’s a sharp contrast to Schneider, who works over him with an incredibly focused precision. Lightly, Schneider scrapes his pointed teeth over his neck, a tease, a threat; it evokes a shudder from Paul. Withdrawing, Schneider then gathers the fabric in confident hands, and Paul raises himself to allow it to be slipped off of him and sent to the floor. The chill of the room hits him then, and he shudders a bit as the goosebumps rise in response. Sitting back on his haunches, Schneider pauses to strip off his own shirt, nimble fingers deftly undoing the buttons, revealing porcelain skin.

Paul takes a moment to study him. The rise and fall of his chest is slow but heavy, labored with his breathing. Paul traces his eyes over the pallid curvature of the vampire’s body – the sharp collar bones that turn abruptly into shoulders, the hollow divot of his chest over his heart, the hip bones that seem to reach out as though in greeting. His arms, covered in what are evidently bite marks, new moons of bruising and pinpricks around his wrists, and Paul feels sympathy more than he’s taken aback. Then he meets his eyes, and it’s intimidating, the way that he looks at him, with such fierce intensity and want and need, yet at the same time, it’s doing everything to turn Paul on even more.

Swallowing, he places his hands on Paul’s knees, and trails a firm touch up his thighs, over his hips, across his belly, before circumventing to the button of his pants. The action is sure and swift in its execution, but Paul notices the slight tremor of his hands. He knows that Schneider’s patience is wearing thinner and thinner with each passing second. Losing his poise from what little he had to start with. After Schneider opens the button and pulls down his fly, Paul instinctively raises his hips, allowing both his underwear and jeans to be torn off his legs, releasing his hard cock to lay heavily upon his belly. Schneider drops them onto the floor, joining all of the other clothes.

Before he gets on top of Paul again, he briefly stands to strip himself of the remainder of his clothing. His own cock springs free, cut and impressive, framed by the trimmed hair around it, and he’s in much the same state, cock flushed and erect. If Schneider doesn’t kill him during the feeding, how absolutely gorgeous he is will surely strike him dead, built like a marble statue of an ancient god. If there were ever a temple in which he would be worshipped, Paul thinks he’d like to be among the congregation. When they meet skin to skin, Paul flinches, though despite this, he wraps his legs around Schneider’s waist, drapes his arms around his shoulders.

“God, you’re so cold,” he murmurs.

“I’ll warm up after feeding,” the vampire tells him in reply, his voice lower and huskier albeit sounding a bit breathless. He pants a ragged rhythm, and Paul can feel in the embrace the slight shakiness to Schneider, as though he’s shivering.

He leans down to kiss him again, and Paul reciprocates. A spark of arousal bursts in his belly when he feels Schneider’s hand reach down to lightly wrap around him, half a grip, half a caress, languidly pulling at his dick in slow, languid pulls and twists of his wrist. A rush of heat further accumulates where it’s already built, and Paul gasps. His mouth freezes in its motion for a moment before he finds himself again. The contrasting chill of his hand is an interesting feeling as it moves over him, forming pleasure in a previously unknown way, and it makes the experience that much more sensitive. At once, his focus is pulled away from the motion of his lips and he falters, pausing a moment, his breath hitching. From above, he can hear a soft laugh from the vampire, feeling its vibrations. The shape of the mouth pressed to his own broadens into a grin. “So sensitive,” Schneider chides good-naturedly, but it hardly flusters Paul.

When precome beads at the slit of his cock, Schneider sweeps his thumb over the head and spreads it out across the sensitive skin of the tip. That alone unravels Paul—he jerks, pulling out of the kiss, wrenching his head to the side to give himself a second to just breathe, hands clutching at Schneider’s shoulders, if only to give himself an anchor to reality. Ever interested in his throat, Schneider licks a long stripe from Paul’s collarbone to his ear, tasting, savoring. His lips latch to the vulnerable flesh there, and Paul tenses in anticipation for what he knows is coming, but he’s ready, and he wants it, his cock jumps in Schneider’s hand and he closes his eyes—

“Almost,” Schneider whispers. “Not quite.”

Schneider pulls back, shifts down the bed, and bends himself over to lift Paul’s cock and take it into his mouth. A sharp gasp falls from Paul’s mouth as his back hollows out in response, arching off the bed, and—dear fucking God in heaven, if he thought that just being jerked off by a cold hand was good, then having his dick sucked by a mouth of the same temperature is divine. The shock of it is electrifying. His whole body trembles as that tongue circles the head, stroking his cock in torturously slow pulls. Paul’s hands reflexively fly out to grasp at Schneider’s hair. He cranes his head back into the pillow, bares his teeth, moaning low in his throat. A scarlet rush of warmth blooms in his checks; overcome with the pleasure, he opens his thighs wider, wanting more, begging for more, pushing his hips up towards Schneider’s mouth in minute movements.

Without warning, Schneider pulls off, instead stretching out past him to dig around in his nightstand and Paul makes a soft little whine. He wants to ask him why he stopped. It didn’t last long enough for him, and he wants more, more, but what stops him from making the suggestion to continue is the way that Schneider produces a bottle of lube, presenting it to Paul. “Ready yourself,” he says, and it’s a firm statement, rigid, impatient. It’s a tone of voice that suggests that this is what they’re doing now, and no objection will be heard. The muscles in the vampire’s jaw clench visibly, rippling under the skin, and he looks stressed, he looks stricken, he looks like he’s this close to snapping and losing his mind, right fucking now. While Paul would like to savor, Schneider seems ready to consume.

Without wasting a moment, Paul pops the cap and he pours a small amount onto his fore and middle fingers, bringing them down past his open legs.

The vampire sits on his knees between Paul’s legs, looking, watching as he does so; being observed like this is astonishingly sexy and erotic. Though the desperation that he can see building up in his host is what spurs him on the most. He’s here to be ordered what to do, to be at his beck and call, to service him, and he would hate to make him wait much longer for what he wants. What he needs.

Working his index finger into himself, Paul’s composure weakens; his brow furrows, the hand resting above his head clenching the edge of his pillow. Though tinged with pleasure, it’s always a strange feeling at first, carefully forcing it in deeper to brush against his prostate. Following this stimulation, his cock leaks against his stomach, pulsating with need. He swears that he’s never been so thrilled to get fucked before, a silent validation of himself and his lust.

As he observes, the vampire idly strokes himself, pulling and twisting at his own cock. The way his fingers stroke at himself and sweep at the dripping head in such an elegant way is a welcome sight. Paul savors every moment, and he can hardly wait for what soon promises to come. With his other hand, Schneider runs his hand up across Paul’s shin, taking in the feeling of his warm flesh. In a low rumble of his voice, Schneider tells him, “I’m going to drink first and fuck you after, if that’s alright with you.”

A jolt of arousal strikes Paul in his belly, traversing down into his cock, hearing such a thing. He wants to say something equally bold, like yes, please, I’ll take it however you want it, but chooses to say nothing instead. He merely nods, holding his bottom lip between his teeth, as he begins to work a second finger into himself. It’s a stretch that aches just a bit—admittedly, it’s been a while since the last time. Momentarily removing his fingers, he applies a fresh coat of lube, and works them back into himself. The reinsertion is easier.

“You smell so good,” Schneider breathes. “It’s been driving me mad since you came in the door, you know.” Hearing such a statement makes Paul’s heart jump in his chest, into an amplified beating. Schneider’s hand wanders from its starting position on Paul’s shin, to press his first and middle fingers firmly against the top of Paul’s foot, at the bend of the ankle. This touch lingers only a moment, and then those fingers trail up along his leg once more; over his knee, down his thigh, to press his thumb deeply into the crease of his hip. With the way Schneider’s eyes study the movement of his own hands as they traverse Paul’s flesh, Paul feels like a piece of meat, here to be offered to Schneider. Though undeniably, he is: Paul wants to be torn apart by the other man. Can Schneider feel him now, the way the heart in his chest races? Feel his excitement, his intimidation, his desire? His passions, his intentions? Paul means to ask what he’s doing, until Schneider crawls over him, grabbing a hold of the arm draped upon the pillow, grip digging into the inside of Paul’s wrist, startling him into silence. He understands now: Schneider, touching all of the places that his pulse is felt, where his blood can be taken.

Releasing his own cock, Schneider curls that hand into a loose hold around Paul’s throat, pressing lightly against the veins of his neck. His head is forced down into the bed beneath them. If Paul thought Schneider was on the edge of wild before, his composure is practically unraveling into something animalistic now: his ragged breathing, those widened, desperate crimson eyes which peer down upon him in blatant hunger. When he speaks, his voice emerges in nearly a hoarse growl, roughened by his delirious state. “All these places I could drink from. Where would you want it most? Or would you like me to choose?”

“Anywhere. I – anywhere, I don’t care, anywhere,” Paul whimpers, hardly able to string together a cohesive thought, yet finding so much clarity in what he needs more than anything else.

Schneider takes lead then, moving decisively, leaning himself over Paul’s groin, mind already made up about what he wants to do, restraint gone.

Roughly, he snatches Paul’s hand from between his legs and removes it with a toss, swiftly filling him with three of his fingers. With the work of Paul’s previous preparation, it’s acceptable, shadowed by a twinge of discomfort, but Paul is easily distracted by the alarming intensity of it, the punch of arousal induced by Schneider’s boldness. When Schneider begins firmly pumping his fingers up to stimulate his prostate, it becomes forgotten entirely in the static of sensation which overwhelms him. Paul’s hands both curl into the covers below him, his knuckles whitening, and he gasps sharply as though he’s never felt such bliss before.

With a long, flat drag of his tongue, Schneider licks along Paul’s inner left thigh. Feeling that, he lifts his head. Watching intently, Paul finds he can’t look away. The vampire’s eyes are closed, with a knitted brow, focusing in, centering himself. He knows that this is no longer a tease or a seduction, and his muscles tense and his breath stills in his lungs. God, he wants it, wants it like nothing else on Earth, needs it, finally, finally yes, it’s happening. No hesitation exists in the vampire, and no warning is offered when Schneider bares his teeth to sink them deep into Paul’s thigh, wrapping his lips around the open wound to drink what it provides.

Crying out, the initial pain gets to him; reactively his leg moves away from the source that brings him pain, though Schneider wraps his entire arm around the limb to immobilize him as he drinks. Tears pricking at his eyes, Paul squeezes them shut and grits his teeth, hands flying out to fist at Schneider’s hair, and he gasps because, holy fuck, does that hurt. Remembering what they negotiated earlier, regarding safe words, it crosses his mind to offer ‘yellow,’ it hurts so bad, until, until, until, until, until –

A warmth, a lightness, that blossoms right from where Schneider’s torn him open, spreads and ebbs. He feels as though a breeze could carry him away. It’s like intoxication of a foreign kind. The bed sheets seem softer, and he swears he can count the individual threads holding them all together; he can feel the different air currents in the room crashing into his skin like ocean waves. Though he’s never tried heroin, he imagines this is what it must feel like; to be in touch with the sensations and rhythms of the body in ways one could never experience otherwise. His thoughts are pulled from the center of his mind and scatter, like a star in supernova, and he can’t focus on one thing, yet focusing in on everything. Schneider sucks and licks at the wound roughly, and that alone is divine, so incredibly sensitive and sensual. Paul whines, until Schneider hooks his fingers up into Paul’s prostate and then it borders on a caterwaul.

It lasts a short time; with a final lick over the wound, Schneider pulls his mouth off Paul’s thigh, and removes his fingers from inside him. When he straightens up on his knees, towering over where Paul lies, it pins him to the here and now as Paul sees the other man’s debauchery painted upon him. Blood smears around his mouth, stretching out onto the expanse of his cheek, evidence of how he’s taken him, claimed him, used him, and it’s devastatingly erotic. Schneider doesn’t move to wipe it away. The increasing panic in his eyes from before has dissipated into nothing, and he holds himself with a solid composure, replacing the shaky jitteriness with a peace, a calm.

Wordlessly, the vampire moves himself up between his legs, balancing himself over Paul with one hand, holding his cock in a tight fist in the other. As best he can, Paul spreads his legs further apart, pulls his knees in tighter, as he welcomes Schneider to go ahead, to do with him as he pleases. Lifting his head, he watches the other man circle the soft head of his cock against his hole, a spark of sensation coupled by an indulgent view. Paul shivers—he needs this more than he’s needed anything before. With haste, Schneider pushes in; the cock head bypasses the tight ring of muscle with no trouble, ripping a gasp straight out of Paul’s lungs—dear fucking Christ in heaven, it feels so sinfully rapturous, along with the combination of the relaxing and stimulating effects of the bite, working in tandem throughout his body.

Schneider bottoms out inside of him, locking his hips against Paul’s ass. Paul moans, bringing his hand from down out of his hair to instead hold the vampire’s face between his hands Recalling what he said earlier, Paul notices that Schneider is no longer quite as cold; his skin is warm to the touch, his heavy breath hot against his cheek, and looking into Schneider’s face, there is a flush to his cheeks. It’s his heat, which he offered, and had been taken, and thus, Paul feels this exchange is all the richer for it. Paul breathes with heaves of his chest, overwhelmed with the arousal, the effects of Schneider’s bite. When Schneider carefully rolls his hips against him, Paul swears he can feel his fucking soul leave his body.

“Is this good?” Schneider murmurs against the shell of his ear, keeping his pace slow and measured. Paul shudders, wraps his legs around his waist, draping his arms around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. In return, Schneider curls his arms under Paul’s back, wrapping his hands around the man’s freckled shoulders.

Nodding, he whimpers, “God, yes. Give it to me, please.” It comes out as if he were begging, a plea, but Schneider’s done everything he’s asked for thus far, and here is no exception. Schneider buries his face in Paul’s neck and begins to increase his speed. It’s so sensitive, but so goddamn good, and Paul clenches his eyes shut, tilting his head back into the pillow. He feels an itch on his thigh where he was bitten, and the faint feeling of warmth that trickles across his skin.

A moan turns into a choked sound of surprise as Schneider digs his fangs into Paul once more, sinking his teeth into the flesh of Paul’s neck. The pain is there for a moment before it vanishes, and just becomes a part of the bliss, and the high rolls over him again, more powerfully than it did before; it increases the intensity of Schneider’s fucking all the more. Paul can’t think straight, reduced to just a body taking in sensation. Overcome by everything, he mindlessly speaks, a hoarse gasp, “God, yes, ah –”

How long it takes, a minute, an hour, a century, Paul doesn’t know, but Schneider eventually pulls off of Paul’s neck with a final, wet smack of his lips. The motion of Schneider’s body on top of his pauses. When the vampire pulls away to look into Paul’s face, he’s more of a mess than he was before, painted with the vibrant red of Paul’s blood, dripping long, thick trails over his chin and neck. A stray drop falls from the corner of Schneider’s mouth, landing against Paul’s cheekbone; Paul only sees a blur of a ribbon of color before it hits his skin with the impact of a car crash. Schneider instantly moves to dash it away with his thumb, but only works to smear it.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to keep going?” Schneider asks, brow furrowed and lips pursed in concern.

Paul doesn’t speak. He leans up to press his lips against the vampire’s. The taste of his own blood floods his mouth – it’s more metallic and salty than he’s ever tasted when sucking a papercut clean – and it fills him with more desire, if there ever was a lack of it before. With a long scrape of his fingernails across the shoulder blades, the ribs, the spine, Paul places his hands at the small of the vampire’s back, and pushes his heels into his ass, an encouragement for him to move, and so he does.

Schneider pulls himself out of the kiss, swiping his lips with the back of his arm in an effort to clean up his mess, and adjusts himself to start to find his pace again. Building from a slow rocking of his hips that has Paul moaning lowly, he begins fucking him in earnest with sharp shoves of his hips that has Paul gasping. “God, fuck me, just like that, that’s so good.

Reaching in between himself and Schneider, he grips his cock in a hand to begin languidly pulling at himself. He’s not far off, having been close since the beginning. He feels beads of sweat build up and race like rivers over his skin, can feel his pulse in the bites of his thigh and neck. Schneider is relentless, appearing hardly out of breath as he snaps his hips down into him. Then he finds it, the whispers of his apex that builds up in his belly, beginning to compound, and he gasps “Fuck, I’m close, I’m close.”

Schneider takes this as a signal to go harder, deeper, faster, and Paul strokes his twitching, leaking cock as he chases his finish. He furrows his brow, and grits his teeth so hard he scarcely thinks that if he’s not careful he’ll crack his molars. As his legs start to shake, his hand still works desperately at his cock, twisting, pulling, tugging, before his orgasm rushes up and spills over, sending hot ropes of cum to land over his clenched belly.

From there, Schneider doesn’t last much longer. As he begins to cum, his pace falters, ragged and uneven, falling apart between Paul’s legs. He clenches his eyes shut, the single display of his own passions during their encounter together, and slows his pace as his cock begins to flex, spilling himself inside Paul. Eventually, he slows to a stop, and there is silence between them, except for Schneider’s calm and Paul’s frantic breath.

The effort for Paul to detach himself from Schneider is great – the muscles in his legs and in his hands are stiff, but he manages to do so. Lying limp against the bed, he looks up at Schneider, offering a smile and a breathy laugh. Schneider offers him a tight lipped smile back, and looks down to where they are still joined to watch himself pull out. Paul can feel the rush of the semen as soon as he withdraws. He presses his legs together to give himself a little bit of decency, slightly embarrassed.

The vampire lies next to Paul, turning on his side to face him, and while Paul would very much like to do the same, the best he can manage in his wrecked physical state is to turn his head. “Holy shit,” Paul articulates, and Schneider bursts out in a laugh.

“That good, huh?”

“Yeah, that fucking good.”

Paul feels the exhaustion of his release hit him, and he rests his eyes, closing them for a moment. The high of Schneider’s bite still lingers, though he can feel himself return to his baseline with each passing second. When he feels the brush of fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair behind his ear, a gesture so intimate and tender from a creature he’d thought was so aloof before, he opens his eyes to look at him. Those red eyes are soft, rounded, exploratory, and betray a warmth that he’d not seen until this moment. “Thank you. You’re sweet,” Paul tells him.

“So are you. In more ways than one,” Schneider remarks smoothly. Paul eyes his own blood smeared over the vampire’s face, across the back of his arm, against his hip.

“Oh yeah?” he mumbles, voice heavy with fatigue. “I was meaning to ask you about it. Take me to my bed and tell me what it tastes like. I think I’m crashing,” he says, punctuated with a yawn.

“You’ll tend to crash after this,” Schneider offers with a slight chuckle, a light grin playing over his stained features, and it’s a full smile, displaying his fangs. He looks devilishly handsome in one of the most meaningful ways one could.

Schneider stands at the edge of the bed, putting one arm under his knees, the other under his shoulders, and hoists him up to carry him effortlessly and easily. Good, because Paul doesn’t know if he would’ve had the strength to do any walking after that. Nuzzling into his chest, he absorbs the warmth of the vampire’s skin, a contented hum low in his throat.

The pair move out of the bedroom, a short way down the hallway, past more paintings and décor that exist less as images that Paul can focus on, to more of blurs of color. They walk through an already open door, and into the guest room as promised. He kneels as he places Paul onto the bed as lightly as possible, and pulls a blanket to cover him.

On his knees at his bedside, Schneider reaches up to stroke gently at his upturned cheek. “Will you need anything else from me before you sleep?” Schneider questions him with a true tone of concern, but Paul doesn’t need anything more than sleep right now. Sighing deeply, closing his eyes, feeling his consciousness leave him bit by bit, he simply shakes his head against the pillow.

“Well, to answer your question,” Schneider says lowly, measured, having finally come up with a satisfactory answer. “It’s like milk and honey. The sweetest, most delicious things you could ever think of.”

It’s an answer that Paul can accept, and Schneider kisses his forehead before he hears the click of the light off and the footsteps that serve as the lullaby that helps sing him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i love yall and don't be shy leave a comment ;_;


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